My friend Scot, a photojournalist, and I often cooperated in producing content for his outdoor sports segment of the Thursday evening news. Our professional relationship was mutually beneficial. Scot generated programming for his time slot, and I, as the local game warden, enjoyed the privilege of informing the public about wildlife conservation matters.
Pheasant stocking was part of my job and of particular interest to my video camera-toting friend who loved to chase the long-tailed birds with an elegant female English setter named Abby. Scot’s pheasant-release videos were rich in ringnecked pheasant natural history, spiced with lots of action. They often included bloopers of roosters scratching blood from my hands and arms or flogging me with a blur of wings and, not uncommonly, pooping on my uniform and hat.
While on duty, I often watched pheasant hunters pursuing the newly stocked birds. My first observation of young Abby working pheasants was pleasantly fascinating. A broad weed field rose steeply from my concealed location in a dilapidated barn, offering a ringside seat. Completely white, save for a half-black face mask, Abby seemed to float elegantly about the dense grasses.
Her progress was purposeful and guided by a highly discerning nose for birds. Years of upland hunting experience with pointing dogs enhanced my pleasure of watching this pup perform like a seasoned pro.
I cherish the memory of meeting Abby following their hunt. Her ultra-friendly spirit matched her beauty, and a seductive message of J want to be your friend flashed about her eyes. It was a love-at-first-sight experience. Her field performance was so enthralling that I requested the privilege of photographing her in action. Wow!
This story is from the Winter 2022 edition of The Upland Almanac.
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This story is from the Winter 2022 edition of The Upland Almanac.
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THE BIG HURTS
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Day's End
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